


There Are Some Downsides

by Amuly



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff and Humor, M/M, POV Nile Freeman, Post-Canon, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: The healing ability that comes with Nile's immortality has it downsides. One major one being the inability to form calluses through repetitive use. Unfortunately, if she was looking for sympathy and understanding, Nile was living with the wrong group of immortal warriors.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 27
Kudos: 233





	There Are Some Downsides

“Fucking slide-” Nile swore under her breath, setting her glock down on the table to examine the back of her knuckles. She sighed and brushed her hand against her jeans, wiping away the blood. Free of the blood her knuckles shone: black and shiny, fresh skin gleaming healthily. She glared at the knuckle at the base of her thumb in particular.

“You know, you kind of suck,” she grumbled.

“Problem, Nile?”

Nile turned to see Nicky strolling into the basement-turned-firing range, loose-limbed and relaxed in jeans and a grey undershirt, plaid button-up thrown on as an afterthought on top, billowing open in the front and both sleeves. It looked too big for him, the button-up, which made Nile wonder if maybe it was Joe’s. Then again, it didn’t seem like anyone on her new team really had a concept of personal property aside from their favorite weapons. Andy would wear Joe’s shirts, Joe would steal Nicky’s jeans, Nicky would use Joe’s mousse.

(It made Nile wonder what Booker used to steal from them, and what they used to steal from Booker. If some of the books that Nicky and Joe could be found reading sprawled over furniture was his, left over at the safe houses. If the boots Joe slipped on to run out and grab eggs were Booker’s, or if there was cologne or razors missing from Nicky’s bathroom because Booker had them in his bag when he left. It would be a hundred years before she found out.)

“Slide keeps catching my knuckle on the recoil,” Nile told him. “I _used_ to have a callus there from range time, but I guess this whole immortality thing heals them away?”

“Your hand is turned too far back,” Nicky said. He held his hands up, clutching them around an imaginary stock to demonstrate. He over-exaggeratedly twisted his right hand so that the knuckle on the base of his thumb pointed directly back to his heart. “You’re overcompensating for the recoil and trying not to pull to the left. Turn your hand,” with that he slowly turned his hand around the imaginary stock, wrist bending to point the knuckle at the base of his thumb out over his right shoulder instead of directly back at his chest. “Like so.”

Nile made a face at him. Then she picked up her gun and tried it, forcibly turning her hand the way he had just demonstrated. …Okay, yeah. The slide wouldn’t catch her thumb knuckle if she held her hands like that. Problem solved.

Still didn’t answer her questions or frustrations about calluses. But she hadn’t exactly asked, had she? Well, not seriously.

“Nicky?” Joe’s voice drifted down from upstairs, and Nicky turned to it like a fish being reeled in on a line. Nile smirked to herself as Nicky inexorably let himself be pulled back up the stairs in the direction of his questing boyfriend (or whatever they were).

Nile pulled her gun up and took aim at the targets again. After a moment she paused and twisted her wrist. When she fired the slide passed harmlessly above her knuckles. Nile snorted and settled her feet, exhaling as she fired shot after shot.

* * *

Nile sighed and stabbed the staff into the grass so she could shake out her hands. In front of her Andy waited, staff slung across her shoulders. Nile sighed and wiped her bloody palms against her jeans. With the blood gone, her palms were clear. No blisters to show for her afternoon of tearing the skin of her palms open again and again. No calluses either, though. Her staff was smeared with blood, wood stained dark brown all along the center. Her palms didn’t even ache or sting anymore, but Nile shook them out anyway. She was learning fast that the psychological component to pain and exhaustion was at least fifty percent of it.

Andy nodded at her. “Again.”

Nile barely managed to whip her staff up in time, blocking Andy’s blow. Her feet weren’t planted, though, and Andy struck again, from the side, from the other side, from below. Nile struggled to bring her staff around each time, off-balance and feet tangling as she tried to shift them to keep up even as they had started from a poor first position. Sure enough, within just a few quick maneuvers Nile’s footwork couldn’t keep up, and Andy lunged forward once, sending Nile stumbling back. Another lunge, from the same side, and Nile overbalanced completely, tripping over her own legs and landing heavily on her side.

The staff came down and cracked down on her skull. Nile yelped and grabbed at her head, sharp, wet pain radiating out from the blow.

“Fuck!”

But almost as soon as she registered the pain it started to ebb away. Nile swore and wiped the blood from her scalp. She glared at Andy, standing a few feet away, smirking down at her. Painfully Nile pushed herself to her feet with her staff. She made sure her feet were safely under her before she fired off:

“I was off-balance.”

“I noticed.”

Nile grumbled, but her feet were shoulder-width apart, and her eyes were trained on Andy’s shoulders, waiting to see if she’d move on her again without warning. Instead Andy said:

“But now you’re not.”

Nile rolled her eyes and bowed mockingly. “Yes, Andy-san. I get it. Wax on, wax off.”

“Aren’t you too young for that movie?” Andy thought out loud. She started walking to her right, Nile’s left. Nile copied her, moving to the right, keeping the same distance between them.

“They made a new one,” Nile told her. “And a TV series. It’s on Netflix. It’s good.”

“Hm,” Andy not-replied. She was still walking to her right in a slow circle. Her shoulders were relaxed, posture completely at ease. Like she wasn’t about to jump out and crack Nile’s skull again if she showed the _tiniest_ bit of inattention.

Andy lunged and Nile blocked more easily this time, feet firmly under her. _Twack, twack, twack_ , their staffs moved in a blur of strikes and blocks, movements easy and sure now that Nile had her footing. Andy slid to the left and Nile copied her, staff held in front of her at the ready. _Twack, twack, twack_ : a blow to the head, the chest, the legs. Nile blocked, blocked, blocked, then stepped to the side and struck out. Andy blocked, then lunged forward, one leg sweeping out as her staff came around at Nile’s head. Nile jumped, and blocked, landing and sliding but keep her balance and staff firmly blocking Andy’s. She spun it, a disarming move, but Andy kept hold of her staff. Strike, strike: Nile tried to attack, but Andy was freaking fast, and her body barely moved. Nile tried to bring her movements under control, stop telegraphing so much, move the staff with her wrists, not her shoulders. Keep her feet under her. Nile stepped to the side, Andy copied her. Lunge, block. Nile gritted her teeth and tightened her hands around the staff, feeling the skin on her hands peel open. Andy lunged, Nile blocked. Andy lunged, Nile blocked, and blocked, and blocked-

 _Twack, twack, whap_! Nile groaned, collapsing to the side when Andy’s staff made contact with her kidneys. She held up a hand, pleading mercy. Andy stepped back and swung her staff over her shoulders, grinning. Nile gripped at her kidney and breathed through the pain. In seconds it faded, and Nile breathed again, a full breath that stretched her ribs and proved all the hurt was gone. Well: at least she didn’t have to worry about pissing blood later today. Nile pushed herself back to her feet with her staff before jabbing it in the ground to check her hands.

The skin hanging off Nile’s palms dropped off as new skin grew and replaced it. She sighed and shook out her hands again before wrapping her fingers back around the staff. She could feel the wood chaffing her palms already.

“Yo, next time, I’m going to tape up before we do this,” Nile told Andy.

“Why?”

“Because I’m sick of leaving behind a half pound of hand skin every time we train,” Nile shot back. “Not to mention I keep ruining my clothes.”

“Soak them in some vinegar,” Andy told her. Nile stared at her, mouth open. “For the bloodstains,” Andy explained.

“Thanks, grandma,” Nile snorted. “You know, we got shit that actually like, _works_ now, right? Oxyclean? Ever heard of it? Because I’m about to introduce you guys to it. It’ll blow your minds.”

Andy rolled her eyes and laughed. She lifted her fingertips, arms still draped over the staff across her shoulders. “You ready?”

Nile grumbled and shook out her hands again. “Yeah, yeah,” she groaned. She grabbed her staff and yanked it from the ground. “Ready. Let’s see if we can bring the total up to an even pound of skin.”

* * *

The bow twanged loudly and Nile swore, dropping it as she reached up to grab her cheek. “Fuck!”

“Careful,” Nicky warned. Nile wasn’t sure if he was telling her to be careful with herself or with the bow—and the fact that he bent down to grab the bow up off the ground didn’t really settle it one way or another.

Her cheek was already healed—the bowstring hadn’t actually cut her or anything, it’d just _stung_ —when she pulled her hand away. Nile sighed and shook out her hand before holding it out for the bow. Was that a _hint_ of hesitation as Nicky passed the bow back too her? Nile sighed. It wasn’t her fault she’d never learned how to shoot a bow as a kid on the Southside, come on!

“Pull it straight back,” Nicky instructed her, moving behind her right shoulder. “Don’t twist it. Pull…”

Nile drew the string back. Nicky tsked, hands coming up to adjust her position.

“No, no, see? You’re turning your wrist over. Like this, you see?” Nicky folded his hand over Niles’ and gently turned it back so her fist was vertical, not turned on a forty-five degree angle. Nicky waited, holding her hand in place as Nile took inventory of her body, trying to memorize _exactly_ how all her muscles felt, where all her limbs were. After a moment she nodded.

But Nicky didn’t move back. Instead he kicked at her feet, adjusting her stance. Then he put a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed forward gently. “Roll your shoulders back. Straight posture, there you go. Don’t hunch over.”

Nile tilted her chin up and exhaled slowly, taking stock. She nodded. “Okay. Got it.”

Nicky stepped back and Nile refocused on the target in front of her. This time, the bow didn’t roll over in her hands, string slapping her cheek. Instead, she felt the breeze of the string against her face as she released, and the arrow flew soundly through the air and struck the target. It was on like, the bottom right edge of the target, but she hit it! And hadn’t injured herself!

“Hey!” she shouted, turning to look at Nicky. She turned just fast enough to catch him smiling, she _totally_ caught him smiling! But quick as could be the smile was gone and he was nodding at the target from beneath his brows.

“Again.”

Nile preened as she turned to nock a fresh arrow on her bow. He’d _totally_ smiled. Then, before she drew back, she breathed in, centering herself. Okay: just like last time. Shoulders back, wrist upright, feet shoulder-width… Nile drew her bow as she exhaled, took aim, and released. The arrow struck the target high and to the left, but it hit it! And she hadn’t even smacked herself in the face with her bowstring!

“Don’t overcompensate,” Nicky told her. “Aim for the center every time. Don’t try to aim based on your last shot.”

Nile’s time between shots grew shorter and shorter as she got the hang of the bow. Her shoulder started to ache a little, but as soon as she felt it, the pain subsided. Unfortunately, her fingers weren’t as quick to heal—likely because she was doing more damage to them more quickly than to her shoulder muscles. As the time between her shots shortened, the damage she did to her fingers began to outpace her body’s ability to heal, and she soon found the bowstring cutting into her fingers.

“Gosh damn, what do you do about this,” Nile complained, holding up her finger pads for Nicky to examine. They were already healed, of course, by the time he bent over to squint at them. “Isn’t there like, a glove archers wear? I feel like I saw that in the Olympics or something. A two-finger glove?”

Nicky shrugged, staring at her. “I do not know. We don’t need them.”

“Well I mean, we can’t form calluses right? So what do you do if you gotta shoot a bunch of arrows in one shot? You don’t tape up, you never use gloves?”

Nicky scratched his head. “No? For what reason?”

“Because we can’t get calluses, man!” Nile practically shouted. She waved her perfectly-healed finger pads at Nicky. “What do you do about ripping up your fingers all the time?!”

“I bleed.”

Nile’s mouth dropped open. After a long pause she clicked it shut. “Dude. That’s _dark_.”

Nicky frowned mightily. It was funny: for a dude with such resting bitch face, he didn’t normally look _upset_ , or frowny. Just kinda serious. But _now_ : now he was full-on frowning, Nile’s accusation apparently getting to him.

“I did not mean it…” Nicky trailed off, frowning some more. “It’s not penance,” he finally said.

“What? I never said it was?”

“Ah. That is what Joe usually accuses me of,” Nicky admitted.

“What do I usually accuse you of?”

As if summoned by his name, Joe appeared on the back porch to their villa, holding two glasses of water in his hands. Nile gratefully accepted one glass from him, and he passed the other glass to Nicky with a kiss to his cheek.

“Penance,” Nicky explained. “Nile wonders why we do not use gloves, or tape on our hands.”

Joe shrugged. “Well, we don’t need to. We heal.”

Nile sighed loudly. “Yeah, but since we heal, we don’t make calluses! Nicky says y’all just _bleed_.”

“This is why,” Nicky explained to Joe. “I told her, it is not penance.”

“Oh, no. Hell, I just bleed,” Joe agreed. He shrugged. “It’s nothing to do with self-flagellation. What’s it matter?”

Nile rolled her eyes. “I’m not accusing Nicky of being some weird-ass albino monk or something-”

Joe and Nicky exchanged a startled look.

“It’s from a movie,” Nile explained. “Well, a book. Anyway. I’m just saying you’re being _extra_.”

“Extra what?” Nicky asked.

Nile tilted her head back and stared at the sky. Then she started laughing and couldn’t stop. Joe joined her, and even Nicky cracked a smile, the feral bastard. Nile sighed and gulped down the rest of her glass of water.

“That’s it. I’m investing in some gloves, and tape, because I am from the twenty-first century and we believe in not being in pain if we can _help_ it. I know that’s a strange concept to y’all…” she waved a hand at Nicky, then Joe. “Medieval knights, or whatever. But that’s how we do things now.”

“But Nile,” Nicky said, frowning, “the pain is as God wills it.”

Nile hesitated for a second. A _half_ second. But it was _just_ enough to see the flicker of a grin cross Nicky’s face, and then Nile was chasing him, trying to smack him upside the head because he was a _jerk_ , “You’re a _jerk_ , that is _such_ a dad joke, it’s not even _funny_ -” as Joe laughed and collected their water glasses from the grass.

The next day Nile ventured into town and stocked up on medical tape, and ordered some archery gloves from a sports supply store she found a few towns over. And she made sure to order enough for _everybody_ , immortal warriors or not.


End file.
